


A Knight to Remember

by bittenfeld



Category: Future GPX Cyber Formula
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Male Slash, Pre-Slash, Racing, Slash, enemy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:24:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3796603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a one-page beginning of an idea.  Knight Schumacher has been taken prisoner by rival driver Eddie Buchholz, who has some very… personal… plans for the two of them.</p><p>“Actually I prefer the pleasure to be mutual.”  Buchholz reaches forward with his right arm – the one of flesh and blood – to finger a few strands of brown hair.  “Believe me, I’m not so desperate for companionship that I have to rape… or beg for affection.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Knight to Remember

Knight Schumacher comes to with a headache – hit over the head? drugged? He’s sitting in a hard-backed chair, wrists cuffed behind his back. But his ankles are not bound, nor is he tied to the chair.

The smoked-lexan visor still masks his eyes – his captor has not removed it. He’s in a shadowed room, a one-room cabin, in the woods – but where?

Nearby, one hip hitched up on the plank table, Eddie Buchholz, the only other person in the room, is watching him with an amused tug of lips.

“You’re not a prisoner,” Buchholz assures him.

“Then unlock the cuffs.”

“Not yet. I’m not sure I can trust you to believe me yet. You’d probably try to hit me over the head.”

“Any reason I shouldn’t? And I’m supposed to believe you because…?”

“Because Mr. Grinnerton told me to enjoy myself with you, then assassinate you. However,” – he let the words sink in – “I’ve done neither.”

“Not yet.”

“I’m not a murderer. The pleasure, however, is, uh, open for discussion.”

“Go to hell.”

“Actually I prefer the pleasure to be mutual.” He reaches forward with his right arm – the one of flesh and blood – to finger a few strands of brown hair. “Believe me, I’m not so desperate for companionship that I have to rape… or beg for affection.”

Schumacher doesn’t pull away from the toying fingers, but reiterates crisply: “Go” and directly: “To” and precisely: “Hell.”

Rising from his propped position, the little grin widening, Buchholz’s fingers drift from the other man’s hair, across Schumacher’s face, to deliver a little tap to his cheek, not a caress, not quite sharp enough for a slap, yet perhaps suggestive of both.

“Before this is over, we _will_ bed. Pleasuring with you is something I’ve intended for some time now. At least you’re not lying to me – or to yourself – protesting that you don’t want this. That’s good.”

Schumacher only retorts dryly, “And what kind of fantasy world are you living in?”

Buchholz grins. “One with you, Liebling – but you’ve probably known that for some time. Or have I been too subtle?”

Schumacher blinks. It did make sense of some things. Buchholz had been the lead driver for the Missing Link team at the time when Mr. Smith had recruited Schumacher. Buchholz was a few years older – four, maybe five.

. . . . .


End file.
